Serendipity
by twitchytwain
Summary: Two political speechwriters fall in love before they find out they are working for candidates on opposite sides
1. Chapter 1

**One is the loneliest Number**

**#**

The queasy streets staggered in a haze and Amy narrowed her eyes trying to make out the shapes in the giddy miasma. Light flurries of snow were starting to fall around the city, gathering on the mobs shoulders, drifting and settling onto the heads. Amy chugged cold crisp air as the pulsating wave of a hostile crowd claimed her and held her hostage. She vanished inside its sultry blackness before shoving and pushing her way through to the dry air again.

Her eyes chanced upon a New York Post headline about the Governor's race and she groaned thinking about the coming elections. As a political speechwriter, she was in for a long and hard season as her candidate was up for re-election. Leo Boykewich was already planning his acceptance speech and the campaigns were just beginning to sprout around New York, talk about an overzealous ego. Amy peered up at a banner for another candidate as it flapped in the wind high above Wall Street. The truth was with all her complaining and scowling, Amy loved being a political speechwriter. She thrived on the action, lived for the drama of dirty politics. She was a slave to her passion and would've traded her soul to become a White House speechwriter. It was a thankless anonymous job but she loved it. The hours were long and strenuous, the eye-creams becoming ridiculously expensive with each year but it was all worth it when the crowds roused to their feet in applaud because of something she wrote.

Tucking her chin into the high collar of her cashmere coat, Amy ducked into her favourite Starbucks.

xXx

It must have been Tuesday, Ricky thought. He always saw her on Tuesdays. She seemed to stalk him from the Starbucks on ninety nine Wall Street to the food truck serving spicy roti's from Trinidad. Ricky thrust his shoulders above the suits of Wall Streets to get a better look at her. He watched as she ordered her coffee black, no sugar and wondered why she even bothered to come to Starbucks.

He had never approached her, never uttered a word to her beyond a grunt as they both existed the door at the same time. What would he have said? Hi, my name is Ricky Underwood and I'm a political speechwriter. Logically, it would have sufficed as a line, this was Manhattan after all but she didn't seem like the type of girl who got reeled by tired lines. Naturally being a Democrat, Ricky had let her choose how it went at the exit and she being a feminist had elected to let him go first. Always the same tango at the door for both of them without so much as eye-contact.

Someone shoved past him carrying a vanilla latte, undoubtedly a Republican, Ricky thought shaking his head. They were the only ones with no imagination, he probably subjected his poor girlfriend to a five minute missionary position every Tuesday and the lattes gave him a boost. Ricky chuckled at his crazy imaginings and wished he could whip out the same enthusiasm for Pappas's campaign. It wasn't that he didn't believe in his candidate, heck Jack was a former football hero and a war veteran. The Republicans would have killed to have him on their team. Truth was the only thing that hurt Jack's campaign was Leo Boykewich; the man was as iconic as the charging bull on Wall Street. He spoke to the simple Americans using simple sentences and voters liked him. That was politics for you, it wasn't poetry, it was fiction but it certainly wasn't Hemmingway.

"One caramel apple spice" Ricky ordered then waited for the barista to come back with his much needed cup. His eyes raced, seeking through the suits inside the brightly lit coffee shop searching for the brunette in the expansive coat. Several minutes later, the barista handed him the cup topped with whipped cream and caramel drizzle. Biting back a scowl at the lack of pecan nuts, he staggered toward the door as he dragged his hand down his tired face. Ricky hauled himself toward the door as she was exiting in time for their usual speechless dance but today would be different as fate lent him a weary hand. In a flash, she was crashing into him. Her knees buckled as she collided into his chest. Instinctively, Ricky's arms draped around her and he smelled her hair, his nose buried deep in its dark pin-straight strands. Ricky smelled her faint oriental perfume as her hair tickled his face and his fingers crawled down her cream coat like daring spiders. Her scent was thrilling, an escape from the stench of urine, burning cigarettes, brewing coffee and weekend old whisky sweat from the young financiers that were passing them on the street.

"Careful, "Ricky simpered, his breath hovering in front of him in the cold "My face is not insured" he said trying to sound charming but regretted it soon after he had uttered the sentence.

"Thank you" she said softly, barely audible in all the traffic noise, the drilling machines and the coffee orders pealing inside the shop. The door slammed again as someone shoved past them.

"I'm Ricky," he said with a smile that tried to be daring but somehow came out looking desperate.

"I'm Amy"


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thanks for the reviews guys; I'm always grateful for a little feedback…**

**Laws of Attraction**

**#**

"That looks like it might stain, "Ricky said handing her a napkin, his dark hair tossing in the quickening icy breeze.

"Shoot!" Amy cried snagging the napkin from his hand to wipe the blooming stain on her favourite coat. It had been her first luxurious purchase to celebrate her job as Leo Boykewich's speechwriter, a Dior cashmere coat. It was three years old now but it still pulled off the clean polished look that would eventually propel her to the white house.

"Let me make it up to you" Ricky smiled sluggishly and Amy was struck by the lewdness in his dark eyes, lascivious beneath the crystalized snow that fringed them. She had not had time to formulate a rebuttal before he quickly added, "I'm buying you this great lobster bisque, "he was smiling, head cocked to the side.

"There's a place around the corner" he continued, jerking his head and motioning to someplace behind him.

"I'm a vegetarian" Amy replied shaking her head and tossing the stained napkin inside her crocodile bag.

"Of course you are" he said "did I mention their superb garden vegetable soup which comes with Lindt chocolate to complement the soup?" he said suddenly coming across like a waitron in his attempts to seduce her. Amy opened her mouth to say something, to save him from himself but he halted her struggles for speech.

"But wait, you don't have much of a sweet tooth since you order your coffee black, no sugar" he quickly said as a wind thrown plastic bag scattered past them.

"Do I know you?" she asked, eyebrow arched as she studied him meticulously.

"I should hope so; we've been having this _Last Tango in Paris_ thing by the door of this Starbucks for months now"

"Hadn't noticed, "She said pushing past him "guess you're not that noticeable"

"Hey, stop playing coy" Ricky called running after her "you noticed me the moment you crashed into me, it took you precisely three seconds to form an attraction"

"I formed an attraction?" she scoffed "is there a busload of crazies touring Manhattan today?"

"Stop with hate crimes, will you?" he simpered "you like me and it took your eyes three seconds to realize that, dilated pupils and all"

She narrowed her eyes at him, casting them over his dark curls as dim sunlight and wind pursued them. She could tell he was the type that owned too many hair products which roughly meant he never spent nights at a partner's apartment. How was he going to haul all those products around Manhattan and still look good the morning after? Amy could see it now, long tedious nights spent at his place watching the Yankees on his big screen and fighting over toasted bagels every morning.

"I know women" Ricky said, combing a hand through his hair.

"You know I would expect that line from him maybe, "Amy snapped pointing to a random man in a slim-fit Armani suit and a grey tweed coat "not you, you're not the type"

"And what type is he?"

"The type who wears power suits and can get away with ridiculous statements like _I know women_"

"And what type am I?"

"The type that doesn't have a tailor "she said sizing him up from his navy trench coat, charcoal t-shirt to his sleet rimed tattered sneakers "you should invest in one" she added, her eyes gliding over the animal print design on his sneakers.

"I'm twenty four"

"And yet you dress like you're thirteen"

"What are you, sixty going on twenty three?"

"That's my cue" Amy said raising her right arm to hail down a cab from the scores of yellow cab driving down the financial district" Good-bye Ricky"

"What you can dish it but you can't take it?" Ricky yelled with a chuckle.

"It's Richard," he called squaring his shoulders and thrusting out his chest trying to look respectable "Richard Underwood"

Amy shook her head as she climbed into the yellow taxi, carefully smoothing down the hem of her coat.

"Forty three and Madison" she told the cab driver as her mobile phone came alive in her handbag. She plucked it out, vibrating and whirling around in her hand before she snapped it open.

"Do you think people need sex to survive?"

"Adrian, Good morning"

"I've been lying naked in bed all morning-"

"Naturally"

"And I've been thinking if I really need sex to survive"

"I think you mean oxygen"

"No, I mean sex, passion" Adrian said "Do you think I'll die a slow miserable death if I just stop having it"

"I don't know, I'm still here…still breathing"

"Yes but you're not living Amy, you're just breathing"

"Same thing, listen can we put the sex talk on the back burner" she said catching the cabbie's faint smile in the review mirror. Amy grinned back at him, rubbing the nape of her stiff neck.

"How's your article on the governor coming along?" she asked as her eyes wandered along the driver's littered dashboard. They darted past a naked Buddha bobbing its head, a string of fat beads handing from the review mirror and settled on the burning incense that pricked her eyes.

"Oh, it _came _alright, "Adrian chuckled huskily "it practically wrote itself" she said breathlessly.

Amy paused for a minute, her mind reeling over Adrian's statement, Adrian naked in bed at nine o'clock on a Tuesday morning and not at her chaotic office at the New York Times.

"Adrian, "she began slowly "what-did-you-do?"

"I might have slept with Ben Boykewich" she said over the receiver and Amy shut her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose. This was Adrian's second escapade with a politician after her July affair with Jack Pappas. Granted, Ben Boykewich was not a politician but he was still the governor's son.

"Sleeping with two politicians doesn't make you Marilyn Monroe, you know"

"Technically, Ben is not a politician, he's an attorney. I'm not as ambitious as Marilyn"

"Adrian, I really don't care," she puffed as she locked back a strand of hair behind her ear, "I need you to get dressed and put your journalist's hat back on then get back to work!-"

"Hey, what are you-?"Amy spun around as the cab door swung open and Ricky darted inside, slouching down into the seat right next to her.

xXx

"I'm catching a cab" he said simply, shrugging his shoulders.

"This is my cab" she huffed glaring at him.

"We'll share, you don't have problem with that right Mr Sanjir?" Ricky said straining his eyes to read the cabbie's name off his license on the dashboard. The cabbie shook his head with a broad grin.

"See, this is what I like about this city," Ricky grinned leaning back into the seat "you come here, make money and live your dream, _New York, New York_"

"Where are you from Mr Sanjir?"

"India"

"Ah, don't you just love our city's open border policy"

"We don't have an open border policy, our governor is a Republican"

"Did you hear that Mr Sanjir?"

"Republicans loath the idea of immigrants breaking through their precious borders and yet here you are, an immigrant in the great city of New York and you have a Republican sticker on your bumper"

"Is this false advertising Mr Sanjir, are you playing a shrewd game of politics or are you really a Republican?"

"You don't have to answer that Sir" Amy said, nudging him with her elbow.

"Right, he doesn't it have to answer" Ricky laughed "Mr Sanjir you can plead the Fifth Amendment on everything"

"Okay, Mr Sanjir please stop the cab. I'm getting off here"

"Why do you keep running away from me?"

"I don't like you"

"I don't like the way you dress, I don't like the things you say and your hair bother's me"

"Oh come on, I still owe you that soup" Ricky yelled as she slammed the door on his face. Throwing his head back against the car seat, Ricky sighed instantly aware of the strong scent of spicy cinnamon in the taxi. _How had he managed to mess that up?_

"What are you looking at?" he said, watching the driver through heavy lidded eyes.

"Do you know that lady?" the cabbie asked, evidently amused by what had transpired.

"Is this a trick question? No I don't know that _lady_"

"But you'd like to?" Mr Sanjir winked, his smile stretching even wider across his sunburnt face. Ricky merely waved him off with his hand as he turned his attention back toward the congested streets.

"She works for the governor of New York" the driver offered and Ricky bolted back up, his heart racing.

"Just my luck" Ricky sighed running his hand down his face.


	3. Chapter 3

**Miracle on Wall Street**

**#**

Amy ducked through the revolving doors of the Trump building, past the crowds milling around the lobby and into the recess of a swamped elevator. She shifted uncomfortably, her Manolo Blahniks clanking on the shingled marble as she moved around the stifling heat of the elevator. Amy always hated the forced intimacy of elevators but she had learned to accept the lack of space in overly populated New York. Her mother still failed to understand why she had chosen to leave beautiful California with its perfect weather and Amy always insisted that she loved New York's sterile air and there was the culture.

The doors slid open with a somnolent ding and she squeezed her way past sharply dressed politicians who looked like financiers. She could hardly tell the difference anymore. Politicians were now employing the services of stylists with as much zeal as they had employing campaign managers. She waded through a maze of miniature cubicles with stifling grey carpeting as she headed for her own corner office with a street side view. It wasn't exactly plush and luxurious and the chair was third grade leather but the gold plate still read Amy Juergens on the door.

"You should put some baking soda on that"

Amy looked up to find Madison, her research assistant peeking into her office. She was wearing her green Chanel sweater again, she'd been wearing it religiously since she read an article on Vanity Fair about green being the wonder colour for redheads.

"I'll have someone from the cleaner's pick it up" Amy half shrugged examining the stain again as she slid out of the coat. She clenched her jaw as her eyes dragged along the map of a stain. Her precious coat was practically ruined.

"What happened, taxi wars?" the redhead asked walking toward the desk with a pile of research files.

"Don't ask, some idiot crashed into me"

'Ah, the romance of New York sidewalks" Madison chuckled placing the files on the desk in front of Amy.

"Have you seen the latest polls?"

"Yeah," Amy said leafing through a pile of papers.

"Jack Pappas s steadily climbing, guess that gym membership is paying off, not to mention his new look. Kudos to his campaign manager. " Madison said crossing her arms across her chest.

"Are you trying to say that female voters base their votes on a candidate's looks?" Amy cocked a trimmed eyebrow at her friend.

"No, I'm saying I would vote for Jack Pappas because he's hot" Madison said wink a wink.

"If you were a Democrat" Amy affirmed still eyeballing the sprightly research assistant.

"If I were a Democrat "Madison finally said rolling her eyes.

"Morning, "

They both jerked up at the knock on the door where an unnaturally beaming Lauren stood glowing with her six months pregnant form in a billowing pastel blouse.

"Morning Lauren"

"What's this?" Amy sighed inspecting the tiny Tiffany box.

"A valentine gift" Lauren said rolling up the sleeves of her Prada blouse.

"You're giving valentine gifts? I think hell just froze over"

"Ok, it was a gift from some staffer; I'm merely passing the buck"

"This staffer knows you're happily married right?" Amy chuckled looking up at her old college friend and colleague.

"Speaking of valentines…" Madison broke in with a wide grin.

"No" Amy dead-panned glaring at her.

"I haven't even said anything yet" Madison moaned resting her buttocks on the corner of Amy's desk.

"You don't have to, we know you "Lauren responded with a biting frown.

"Amy-"

"Don't take the bait Amy" Lauren warned.

"Amy, there's this great guy that I know you're going to like"

"No" the brunette shook her head tucking strands of hair behind both ears.

"Marc Molina. He's recently divorced and-"

"He's the youngest district attorney in New York, Republican with a penchant for hunting partridges in upstate New York. " Amy said knowingly "I'm not interested, besides I have front row tickets to the Knicks"

ooo

"I am drinking from the cup of victory" Jack bellowed twirling the squat glass around in his hand.

"Victory?" Ricky mused eyeing him as he tossed ice inside the hefty glass of scotch.

"Have you seen the polls my friend?"

"You mean the popularity polls" Ricky retorted.

"Don't hate Underwood; it doesn't look good on you" Jack chuckled handing his friend and speechwriter a fresh glass.

"Being popular with female voters doesn't carry much clout with the real polls" Ricky replied declining the drink with a shake of his head.

"I know JFK was popular with women" Grace, Jack's campaign manager called as she sauntered inside the tiny clustered office. Ricky groaned, slapping a hand down his face. He was so tired of the Jack and JFK comparisons but he could forgive the faux paus if it won his candidate the governorship.

"Would you just let me have this moment, I beat Leo Boykewich, the original New Yorker in these polls" Jack insisted as he tossing more scotch down his throat.

"Good looks and idealism won't win against Boykewich, we need brass balls" Ricky said.

"Said the inconsistent jerk-ass with commitment issues" Grace eyeballed him before snapping her head back toward the young candidate "Jack, ideas are like manure, worthless unless you spread them around"

"Yes Jack, your ideas are precious manure" Ricky called from his position by the small open window. In this position he had the perfect view of Grace's legs, legs that had been wrapped around him all of July. She'd stopped coming over his apartment during Fall and Ricky had blamed his faulty radiator.

"Jack, you have a lunch meeting with a donor at three" she said padding across the screen of her pink IPad.

"I thought that I was meeting an interest group"

"That's tomorrow" she said tossing back her chic blond bob and biting her bottom lip.

ooo

"You know there should be a law against how good looking you are" Ricky said as they left Jack's tiny office. They zigzagged through a mess of blue cubicles stacked tightly against each other like domino chips. Their office space was shit but the energy of the young party was infectious. They were all like ferrets in a cage high on too much coffee and Ricky loved it.

"They should arrest you for being an ass-hat" she gave him a side-long glance.

"You wanna grab a drink tonight?"

"I have a date" she said fixing her campaign button with Jack Pappas's face printed on it.

"Really, does he have brass balls?"

"Bigger than yours, that's for sure" she cocked her head, eyeing him through her fluttering eyelashes. "We're actually driving up to Upstate New York for the Valentine weekend"

"The predictions of a snowstorm aren't deterring you?"

"All the better for snuggle time"'

"You're a cruel cruel woman Grace"

"Why couldn't we work things out?" Ricky licked his lips, eyes focused on the rise and fall of her pencil skirt.

"Cause I earn more money than you, "she chuckled glancing over her shoulder "oh, and you're married to politics remember?"

"So, no date?"

"No date, big-shot"

"Your loss" he winked and smiled broadly.

ooo

Ricky stared blearily at his laptop, the letters on the screen were beginning to bink and blur in front of him. He tore his eyes away from the screen to watch knots of people plod through the snow. He was bone tired working on his thirteenth draft for Jack's speech for his address with the unions. Ricky was attempting to craft that lofty moment, that great crescendo in Jack's speech that would propel him to JF Kennedy's level-if that were ever possible. He sighed and grinned to himself as he leaned back into his seat. His foster dad always said that politics was the art of the possible and Ricky had enough heart and creativity to pull a rabbit out of a hat. He had pulled enough miracle papers when he was at the community college to earn him an internship at the New York Post.

The soft tap on the corner of his cubicle yanked him from his thoughts.

"I got that _research_ you asked for" Henry said tapping a file against his hand. He lingered around the entry, eyes flickering pensively around the cubicle loaded papers, magazine clippings, newspaper cut-outs. The was not one single photograph or anything personal of Ricky's expect for his framed journalism degree mounted on the felt covered wall.

"The Amy file?" Ricky arched an eyebrow, hand reaching for the dossier.

"Yup, Amy Juergens. She's Leo's Boykewich's speechwriter" Henry said still clutching the black folder

"I imagine if you hit it off with her, we won't even need a budget for opposition research anymore"

"Henry, _really_?" Ricky drawled snatching the file from Henry's hands.

"You're very transparent Ricky"

"Thank you" Ricky smiled flicking the corner of the file his index finger.

"You got any great Valentine's plans?" Henry smirked playing with a miniature statue of liberty on Ricky's desk.

"No and do me a favor, don't tell me about your boring plans with your wife"

"You're like the Grinch who stole romance"

"I'm a red blooded male with front row tickets to the Knicks" Ricky grinned propping his legs on his wobbly desk and leaning back into his chair "life doesn't get better than that"

"Great, whatever" Henry mumbled heading for the door "listen in case I think you're thinking what you're thinking, " he paused letting the perplexed look settle on Ricky's face "espionage Ricky, your game not mine. Anyway," Henry cleared his throat "The target frequencies a bar on 75 Wall Street every Wednesday"

"The target" Ricky repeated spying his research assistant.

"Amy Juergens"

"Right, your words not mine"

"She frequents this bar on 75 Wall Street, Andaz"

"Right, that yuppie hotel bar with all those scumbag stockbrokers"

"You got it" Henry grinned slapping his hand lightly against the cubicle before existing. Ricky groaned fisting his hair before he began to flip through the file. He grinned at Henry's assumption that his interest on Amy was based solely on surveillance. As if this Amy could reveal crucial information about Leo Boykewich's campaign in the heat of the moment. As if he, Ricky Underwood could play a spy.

He wondered how much of a talker Amy Juergens was and how much of a talker she was after several glasses of ridiculously expensive wine at the Andaz Hotel.


	4. Chapter 4

BAD MOON RISING

The glare of neon lights impaled Ricky's eyes as he stepped out on the curb to hail down a cab. Sticking his chin inside the collar of his coat, he thrust himself inside a taxi and leaned over to instruct the cabbie about his destination.

"Seventy Five, Wall Street" he said, already spying the meter. Sitting back into the leather bench, he leaned his head against the head rest and heaved a heavy sigh. He was exhausted, what he really needed was a nice cold beer and to pass out in front of the TV with a replay of the Knicks vs Lakers game. He had practically dosed off when the shudder of the cab jolted him up and blinking around owlishly, he realized that they were parked outside the Andaz hotel and the damn meter was still running. He paid the tab, hunched his shoulders against the onslaught of snowfall and dove inside the hotel.

The space immediately swallowed him, etched glass with floor to ceiling windows. Ricky cleared his throat, trying to look inconspicuous as he scanned the bar, eyes darting from the young financiers flocking toward couches by a flickering fireplace, to the black lacquered tables dotted with a few patrons. He spotted her, huddled into a corner, exposed light bulbs looming above her head as she nestled a glass of red wine. She had that 'off the clock' look about her, like she had been hankering for a drink all afternoon and he sympathised.

Weaving through a few waiters rolling around service carts filled with drinks, he made his way toward the lonesome brunette.

"What's your poison?" he asked, settling in beside her.

"You!" Amy's eyes sprang up, a sneer toying with her painted lips. Ricky liked the colour, deep red suited her and her yellow dress played magic tricks with her brown eyes. She had colour today, he liked that. Somehow it made a wintry New York seem brighter, or maybe he'd spent too many hours thumping his laptop again.

"Fancy running into you here" Ricky grinned, motioning for a waiter.

"Careful, I'm packing heat" she placed a hand on her purse and took another giant sip of wine.

"Let me buy you a drink" he teased, wetting his lips.

"My mother warned me about talking to strange men in bars" she drawled in protest but her eyes told a different story. Ricky had enough dating experience to know the look, to read it and manipulate it. He considered himself somewhat of a _lady whisperer_, if there was ever such a thing.

"Playing it safe, where's the fun in that?" he scooted closer to her, catching a whiff of her perfume, feminine but not too saccharine. She continued with her quick, hefty sips, her eyes never leaving his. When the waiter finally got to their table, Ricky ordered a traditional draft beer, German because that was as cultural as he was willing to be.

"And another glass of wine for her" he added, gesturing at Amy with his head.

"Merlot" she told the server before draining her glass.

"I must apologise for my dreadful behaviour yesterday, had a terrible Monday at work" he turned back to her once the waiter was out of earshot.

"Don't we all?" Amy scoffed, rolling her coffee eyes.

"A student puked in my class" Ricky couldn't help rubbing the back of his neck as he said this, it was his obvious tell and he hoped that she wouldn't pick up on hid lie.

"Student?"

"I'm a teacher over at PS23" he lied with a straight face. Ricky, you're going down Broadway to hell, he thought as he smiled at her.

"Wow, a teacher" her eyes widened, "that's refreshing"

"It's got its hurdles but I love it, "he paused, taking his beer from the waiter. He took a long pull from it, watched as she tackled her fresh glass and then quickly added, "But I love the kids"

"Wow, and here I thought you were just a number's guy with a nose for bad politics"

"Bad politics?" he raised an eyebrow, studying the way her mouth moved as she spoke.

"Sorry, you clearly have a thing for the Democrats and I shouldn't hold it against you" Amy shrugged her shoulders, staring down into her drink.

"And you have a hard on for Republicans?" he asked, his eyes chasing her hand as she brushed a stray hair behind her ear. Amy paused, eyes narrowed as if she were trying to decipher the intricate workings of his vey male, very Democratic brain.

"I wouldn't use_ those_ words exactly" she said, tight lipped. Damn, she was stiff, right down to her prim dress and black coffee at Starbucks. Ricky's lips twitched, an amused smile forming across his face.

"What do you do?" he asked her, taking another swig from his draft.

"I work in politics"

"That's pretty broad, as a what, tea-lady or campaign manager"

"I'm a writer"

"Really, I like reading" he simpered, "So, you write about politics like a column on the New Yorker?"

"Not quite, I'm more behind the scenes"

"Really, like-"

"I'm a speech writer"

"For anyone I know or do you freelance?"

"I work for the governor of New York"

"That's pretty impressive, what an awesome job"

"It's not a job, it's a career" she corrected him rather quickly.

"What made you get into that?" he chose to ignore her icy glare, pushing on with the interrogation.

"Is this an interview? Cause it feels like an interview"

"Hardly, we have career days all the time at the school so I find stories about how people discovered their careers to be stimulating" he rolled the word _stimulating _on his tongue and watched her shift around in her seat.

"I fell in love with some old speech by JFK and found couldn't get the idea out of my head" she finnaly offered, darting her eyes away from his.

"The idea to become a Republican?"

"The idea of being a political speech writer"

"But you're a Republican"

"What does me being a Republican have anything to do with writing?"

"Well, your entire theory is flawed since you've sited Arthur Schlesinger Jr. as your hero; you don't get any more democratic than Schlesinger" he said "the man was JF Kennedy' damn speech writer!"

"I never said that Arthur Schlesinger Jr. was my hero, I simply said I liked JFK's speeches"

"Which were written by Arthur Schlesinger Jr." he corrected her, a smug smile erupting on his face.

"You're a lunatic"

"There are only two points I tell a Republican in order to win my argument, Nixon and Watergate "he grinned broadly, his eyes lighting up "That usually shuts them up"

"You really are a demented Democrat aren't you?"

"Need I remind you that Jack Pappas was named sexiest man in New York by the Post?"

"The staff at the paper was obviously drunk that day" scoffed, calling the waiter for another round.

* * *

Amy ordered Bourbon cake, hoping it would match the one at the Blackbird in Chicago. She couldn't figure out while she was still here, seated so close to this Ricky guy and not at home watching reruns of Friends and gawking at Joey, whom she admits she would never date but was still nice to look at. She was on her fifth glass of wine and her muscles were telling. It was a nice floating sensation married with the swimming feeling of her head. She liked this feeling, this tipsiness and laziness of her wine-spent limbs.

"Another one?" Ricky gestured to their empty glasses, raking a hand through his hair. Somehow that jolted her back to present scene and this teacher who didn't quite act like a teacher.

"I don't know, it's a school night" she said, pocking the cake with a fork.

"Come on, I know a great bar in the East Village, it has way more action than this yuppie dump" he coaxed and for once, Amy pondered his suggestion. It had been a very long day and she was sick of the piano bars dotting wall Street with their small tapas and expensive wine. She took a shaving of cake, smooth Bourbon flavours melting into her wine soaked mouth and licked her lips.

"Sure, why not" Amy smiled, "the night is still young"


	5. Chapter 5

**The Debaters **

**xxx**

This was not Amy's typical Wednesday night. She did not pick up strange men in bars, she did not drink over three glasses of wine unless it was within the confines of her home and she certainly did not gorge down on sloppy corned beef rolls jammed with caramelized onion rings at one in the morning while standing in front of a late night food truck. She closed her eyes and savored the taste, wondering how something that looked so filthy could taste so good.

"This tastes so darn good," she moaned, licking a dab of mayo and tomato sauce off her fingers.

"So, what is it like working for the Boykewich administration?" Ricky asked, raising his eyebrows. He lifted his sandwich to his mouth and took an anxious bite.

"Can we not talk shop?" She gestured to her roll, speaking with a mouth and shaking her head.

"Please, indulge me" he mumbled, swallowing between mouthfuls of pastrami.

"The hours are long and grueling but I wouldn't trade my job for all the tea in China"

"And what about the man, does he like his turkey on rye, his eggs over easy? "He shrugged, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"You want to know more about Leo Boykewich" Amy ran her tongue over her lips then took another hefty bite. She didn't care that the sauce was dripping down her chin, coating her fingers and sinking into her fresh manicure. This was possibly the best damn corned beef roll in all of New York. With a heavy sigh, she pursed her lips and stomped her feet to shake the snow off her black pumps. As much as she loved her job and if truth be told that's all she lived for but she had no desire to discuss the inner workings of Boykewich's office at one in the morning with a teacher from PS23.

"Two minutes between this traffic light and that dry cleaning shop around the corner, "she told him, taking another quick bite "That's your window"

"I hear he's blocking a new gun control proposal "Ricky hummed into his sandwich, shutting his eyes momentarily.

"And rightly so, we do have the right to bear arms" she replied, giving him a sidelong glance. She didn't know where he was going with this but a debate after several glasses of wine was not something she wanted to engage in.

"Right, because the more guns we have, the better we deter crime" he scoffed, chewing the last morsel of his club sandwich before scrunching up the paper and tossing it in a trash can.

"Talk about gun control to the rape victim jogging along Central Park who couldn't defend herself," Amy snapped, disregarding the last of her sandwich. She tossed it into the same trash can, her eyes never living his," talk about gun control to the family of five who lost their lives because some thug chose to break into their house" she shook her head as she wiped her hands then hurled the dirty napkin with the rest of the garbage.

"How about we talk about the six year old boy from Chicago who died after he accidentally shot himself?" Ricky raised an eyebrow, drawing closer to her and closing the small space between them.

"Guns don't kill people, people kill people" Amy said, spread fingers raking through her hair.

"So what, blame mommy and daddy for keeping a gun in the house?" he shook his head wildly, stepping back away from her.

"Your window just closed" she tilted her head up, thrust her chin then turned back toward the pavement, her head was swimming.

"Okay okay, last question?"

"What?" she asked, rolling her eyes.

"Is he dating anyone?"

"No comment"

"Oh come on, don't give me that standard response you give to that wet behind the ears press guy fresh off the bus from hillbilly"

"Why are you interested in Boykewich's love life?" she cocked her head, mouth set in a stern line.

"I'm interested in everyone's love life"

"Mine included?"

"Yours?" his eyes widened at her question, she'd obviously caught him off guard. Amy wasn't even sure why she had asked the question but she quickly regretted it.

"Never mind, " she said, tossing her hair over her shoulder as she marched forward.

xXx

Ricky never took women out to dinner because he knew and like every other red blooded American male knew, tables were a physical barrier. They were too restricting; there was no casual brush of her hair away from her face, no knee accidentally grazing against another knee and definitely no hip to hip bump. Dinner dates were in truth as archaic as dinosaurs. In his college days he had perfected the art of the club date, all that grinding and sweating never failed to plant a seed in the minds of the females he took out but now at twenty four, he didn't dwell much in that scene.

What he did now was East Village, ah the glorious treasure of the East Village with its bohemian beer halls where one could never find a table among the smoke cloaked joint. They had already been to a basement dive bar with amazing graffiti walls and tattooed artistic types crawling all over the dusty space bar and now he was leading her out a bar at . The whole point of this exercise was to move their dates to multiple locations in one night in order to build familiarity, Ricky had to make her feel comfortable enough for her to start opening up to him.

He watched as she walked away from him, her shoes violently striking the pavement like a three year old that'd been denied ice-cream.

"Hey, it's been a long night and as stimulating as our political conversation has been I have an early morning, " he said, one hand thrust deep into his coat pocket as he wiped a crust of snow off his sneaker with his dirty napkin, "you know, school and all" he finished with a shoulder shrug, one hand fisting his hair.

"Right,PS23" Amy clutched her purse tighter, her eyes darting off to the army of yellow cabs crawling around East Village like red ants.

"I stay around the corner, " Ricky quickly offered, " If you wanna grab one for the road"

"Of Course you stay around here and of course you would invite me back to your place" she chuckled as she shook her head, rolling her shoulders to shake off her nerves.

"Hey, it's not a contract. It's simply a glass of wine at my place while you wait for a cab" his eyes were immediately on her, jaw bulking at her accusation.

"This is New York, there are taxis crawling all over the place" Amy said coolly as she crept nearer to the road and the rush of traffic. She looked pink, flushed, tipsy and flustered. A pang of worry crept up his spine when he saw the state she was in, he was after all still human underneath all that hair gel and bottle tan.

"Great, it was just a thought, "Ricky said, turning away from her with his eyes darting to the thrift shop behind her" come on; let's rustle you up a cab" he was about to thrust him arm up to hail down a cab when he felt her hands on his shoulder.

"Maybe, one glass wouldn't hurt" she said, lower lip strangled between her teeth as the loneliness in her brown eyes ripped through him. Ricky smiled with a nod then joined her for a short stroll back to his apartment.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Hello darlings, I'm so grateful for all your love and support. This is the last chapter to be on the short side, future chapters will be lengthier as I will be dedicating more time to this fic!**

* * *

**You've got a delivery**

* * *

They stumbled into his apartment, debating some issue about social reform which had somehow managed to center around the hobos in the city.

"How did we get from discussing civil rights to arguing about the crazy subway hobo spouting Nazi propaganda?" Ricky asked, kicking the door closed. He swiftly shrugged off his coat and undid the first two buttons of his shirt.

"All I know is that I need a big shot of scotch before we get to musing about Darwin" she slurred, tackling the buttons on the front of her cocoon coat. Ricky came to her rescue, unbuttoning her tiffany blue coat as she swayed, dizzy from her sublime intoxication. Amy licked her lips then pressed them firmly together, her eyes trained to his hands and straining to concentrate.

"I have beer, it's very good" Ricky said, taking her coat and tossing it on the edge of the couch "it's German"

"Beer?" she repeated, screwing her eyes up at him.

"You really need to stop leaving your life like its groundhog day, live a little" he laughed, motioning her to the couch with his head.

"Nice place, "she said as her eyes flitted around the space, "you play?" Amy gestured to a pair of conga drums hugging a corner scattered with books, some stacked inside the unused fire place.

"Three o'clock every Saturday morning, "he said, opening his refrigerator, "I'm usually sloshed and the neighbors always give me a standing ovation" he added, tossing her a can of beer.

"Thanks"

"Great hands, should've told you to go long"

"Hut hut, "she mocked, struggling to open the beer.

"You have no idea how incredibly sexy that sounds, "Ricky admitted, crossing the floor toward her.

"You need some help with that, Miss Quarterback?" He gestured to the can as she attempted to open it with her perfectly manicured nails.

"I got it," she smiled, tilting her head back to look at him dead in his eyes. The sudden flutter inside her belly made her skin jump and she quickly heaved a long sigh.

"So what's it like, being a teacher?" she asked, shaking her head to shake off the thoughts she was suddenly having about him.

"Fantastic," Ricky grinned, slumping on the sofa next to her "I feel like I'm imparting something to society, you know"

"The children are our future and all that" he drawled as he took another pull from his beer.

"Great M.J quote" Amy slurred, cheek pasted against the sofa before her head dropped to his shoulder.

* * *

"Come on Rambo, let's get you to bed" Ricky chuckled, hooking his arm under her knees as he scooped her up from the couch. Slowly, he carried her into his bedroom and set her down on his bed. He leaned over her and brushed a tousled strand of hair away from her face. Straightening back up, Ricky fought the parental urge to kiss her forehead as Amy's lips formed a faint smile. He blamed the liquor for this strange spell that took over his body.

Xxx

When Amy pried her eyes open, she noticed two things, dim light streaming from wooden blinds and the smell of dirty, crusty socks. What really made her head jerk up from the pillow though was the huge Knicks poster on the back of the bedroom door. For a moment she thought she had done a time warp through a time machine and was actually in the bedroom of her old high school boyfriend. The expensive purse on the nightstand told her otherwise, so did the sealed pack of latex condoms.

She swung her legs over the side of the bed and scrambled to her feet. Her eyes felt puffy and heavy and her dress smelled like day old sweat laced with beer. Oh this was bad, she thought as she clutched her head. This was never part of the plan. Padding toward the door, she stumbled on a pair of sneakers on the floor and straightened back up. When she finally left the bedroom, she surveyed the lounge and the sofa with a rumpled bed.

"Hello" Amy called, a shiver creeping up her spine.

"Hey, Rambo" Ricky greeted, slipping into a tan duffle coat as he advanced toward her, "You want some bagels?"

"I want a shower" she crossed her arms against her chest.

"That would be that door" Ricky pointed as he scooped up his leather satchel. She emitted a long sigh, hands flying to her hips.

"Uhm…what time is it?" she asked, turning up her face.

"Time for me to leave, I'm running late" he was loud, energetic and he was giving her a headache.

"If you change your mind about the grub, I have some left over Chinese in the fridge" he said over his shoulder, bounding for the door "I'll call you, "he yelled, slamming the door shut.

Amy watched the door incredulously; her mind still foggy and then gradually, she dragged her limbs to the shower.

xxx

"Henry, I'd like you to arrange a delivery for me" Ricky announced, legs propped on his desk with the right leg over the left one.

"Who'd you screw over now?" his research assistant asked.

"Red roses, wait make that white roses…or maybe pink" Ricky narrowed his eyes, tapping his pencil against the desk.

"Your indecisiveness is what I live for" Henry replied monotonously

"Scratch that; make it a bouquet of freshly sharpened pencils" Ricky said, suddenly lurching forward with his elbows resting on the bare wood.

"Seriously, you're pulling that 'You've_ got mail'_ stunt?"

"Hey, your wife is a republican, right?"

"Yes, Alice is a republican"

"Fantastic and it works this thing of yours?"

"Yes, our _marriage_ works" Henry narrowed his eyes, "Why?"

"Never mind, off you go" Ricky waved him off then pivoted the chair back to watch a snowy Wall Street through his window.

xXx

"Amy, you have a delivery" Madison popped her head through the door, a thrilled smile on her face. Propping her head with her right hand, Amy emitted a deep groan before she slammed her forehead against the desk.

"It's a bunch of pencils, "Madison said holding them up, "and I don't get it" she handed Amy the card. Slowly, Amy yanked the card from the tiny envelope and read it the little note, _How about a movie, tonight?"_

"He's trying to pull a Tom Hanks" she told Madison absentmindedly as pondered this idea of a movie. Her head was pounding and she could hardly stomach a morsel of bread, let alone a bucket of greasy popcorn inside a dark movie theatre.

"Sleepless in Seattle?"

"What?" Amy shook herself wake, eyes springing up at Madison.

"The movie, is it Sleepless in Seattle?"

"No, the other one"

"You've bee overdosing on Netflix again, haven't you?"

"Guilty as charged"

"And yet you refuse to let me set you up"

"I don't need a hook up" Amy motioned to the sharpened pencils, "case in point, exhibit A"

"Yes because every girl in Manhattan wants to date a man who sends her pencils" Madison shook her head and clicked her tongue as she sorted through a stack of papers to file inside a folder.

"Wait, wait what's that?" Amy's eyes quickly widened, she wasn't quite sure she had seen what she thought she had seen.

"What?" Madison looked up at her dumbfounded.

"That, on that paper," she pointed at the papers as she leapt up from her chair, "the picture Madison!"

"Its research stuff for Pappas's administration" the redhead was cool, perplexed but still calm in her demeanor.

"You lost me" Amy's cheeks were red now, breath strangled in her throat as she tried to think about the consequences of what she thought she had seen in Madison's papers.

"These are some of the people on Jack Pappas's staff" she explained, eyes narrowed at Amy.

"And who's he?" Amy cracked, snatching the paper from Madison and with a great flourish she began pointing at a picture of a brunette with pretty brown eyes. He had the type of eyes that didn't need to say much but spoke volumes from across the room of an artsy bar in Greenwich Village.

"That's Jack's speechwriter, Ricky something" she smiled, her eyes travelling down to Ricky's smile.

"Ricky Underwood," Amy announced, gripping the picture tighter, a new flame burning in her eyes, "the supposed PS23 teacher"


	7. Chapter 7

**THE NON DATE**

xXx

"I'm gonna wring his neck!" Amy screamed as she balled up the picture and threw it in the garbage bin. Flexing her fingers, she shook them out because they still hurt from the pressure of scrunching up Ricky Underwood's picture.

"Clearly, I'm lost right now" Madison shook her head, her eyes darting from Amy to the dust bin then back to Amy.

"Ricky Underwood is the PS 23 teacher, the one who delivered the pencils" the brunette explained, cheeks flushed with anger.

"Oooh, the one you've been seeing?" Madison slapped a hand over her mouth, shaking her head in solidarity.

"I haven't been seeing him. It was one date and I wouldn't even call it a date" she shook her head, clenching both hands into firm fists.

"So you didn't know that he was Jack Pappa's speechwriter?" stunned, Madison threw herself on to a chair to catch her breath.

"Sometimes I really don't know how you got into politics Madison" Amy cried, a shaky hand fisting her hair as she paced across the floor, "Wait! I'm gonna play him at his own game"

"He's probably working undercover, "Amy tapped a finger to her lips, "gathering Intel for the other team"

"If he wants dirt on Leo Boykewich, I will give him dirt on Leo Boykewich"

"You will?"

"Madison, stay focused" she snapped her fingers, "I'm gonna be the cunning spider and he can be the pretty little fly"

xXx

"You're playing her like a violin, aren't you?"

Ricky lifted his eyebrows, lips pressed together as he eyed Henry who was propped up against the wall, one hand smoothing down the front of his striped green tie.

"Amy Juergens "

"However do you mean?" a smile teased the corners of Ricky's lips as he twirled a stapler in his right hand.

"I can't fathom why this smart, beautiful woman would agree to ever go on a date with you"

"I'm like death and taxes my friend, unavoidable" he chuckled, swiping a hand through his hair. Henry scoffed and rolled his eyes before taking a hefty sip from his coffee mug, "Hey, you wanna play quidditch this Thursday?" he asked, glancing up at Ricky.

"Come again?"

"Quidditch, it's sort of like lacrosse" Henry explained, shaking his head as Ricky stared blankly at him, "you know, Harry Potter…quidditch…"

"Hey, take your sick hobby somewhere else, Dumbledork" Ricky reclined back against his chair, propping both legs on the desk, "Besides, I gotta keep my weekend open for the Knicks game and a date with Amy"

"You really think that Amy Juergens will call you?"

"I don't think, I know" he mocked, diving back into the article he was writing for Jack Pappa's speech on education reform.

"Hey, "Grace popped her head through the door, knuckles rapping against the grey felt, "Can we talk?" she paused, eyes darting from Ricky to Henry then back to Ricky "Am I interrupting something?"

"Nope, Narcissus is all yours" Henry stepped out, "or do you go by the name Hades these days?" he rolled his eyes as Ricky threw a rumpled ball of paper at him.

"And what can I do for you, gorgeous?" he asked after Henry had disappeared out into the hallway. His eyes travelled down Grace's form, lingering on her hips. He liked the way the pink dress showed off her curves and thinking about her body brought back memories.

"I'll be out of town for the weekend" she explained, chewing her lower lip as she approached his messy desk.

"Upstate?" he raised an eyebrow, wetting his lips.

"Yeah and I need a favor" her voice softened and Ricky groaned. She knew just how to get to him with her innocent feminine wiles. A little flutter of her eyelashes and a flicker of her blonde hair always left him panting.

"Favor-my least favorite word in the English dictionary" he teased as she perched on the desk in front of him.

"I need to you to walk Kelly while I'm gone"

"Get a dog-walker, Manhattan is crawling with them"

"My usual guy is out of down and I don't trust anyone with my Kelly, besides you of course"

"Bullshit, you know your bi-, your dog never liked me"

"Nonsense she loves you. Dalmatians just take time to warm up to certain people"

"So, let me get this straight. You want me to babysit your dog while you go on a romantic weekend?"

"Pretty much"

"What do I get out of this?" she smiled, tossing her bobbed hair back and letting it fall back over her big blue eyes.

"What do you want to get out of this?"

"My radiator is fixed" Ricky winked, plucking out a stray tread from her dress.

"Not a chance Underwood" she chuckled getting off the desk and heading for the door.

"Your loss" he called, picking up a pencil and gnawing on its crown. He shook his head with a chuckle and opened the page he had been googling before Henry's rude interruption. He scrolled down the Linkedin page to view Amy's picture again.

xXx

Reporters piled into the conference center for Leo Boykewich's speech on education reform and Amy spotted Adrian in the front seat, recorder ready as she chewed on her pencil. Pursing her lips together, she adjusted her side button navy dress and waved at Adrian when the reporter looked up. It was going to be a long conference, she could tell and the only thing she could think about was Ricky Underwood. She had ended up calling him and suggested a dinner at Daniels in Park Avenue. This of course ended up being a debate about social classes and the discrepancy between the rich and the poor until he added something about hunger in Somalia. Amy finally agreed to dinner at some place in Brooklyn that she hoped had clean bathrooms at the very least.

xXx

"It's not a date Adrian, it's a non-date…a fake date" Amy sighed, plucking out a bottle of merlot from her wine rack in the kitchen.

"Is that why you spent the past hour shaving off every inch of hair on your body?" Adrian rifled through the cabinets and pulled out a pair of wine glasses.

"I still need to look good in order to pull this off" she shrugged as she worked the work out of the bottle.

"I call bullshit" Adrian laughed, setting the glasses on the island for Amy to pour the wine. She hesitated, looking up at Adrian before she huffed, "Are you gonna help or what?"

"Ok. What do you need?"

"I need you to help me select an outfit that says _hi, I'm sexy_ "she spelled out, pouring hefty helpings of red wine into both glasses.

"From your closet? You got to be kidding me" Arian exclaimed as she picked up her glass for a sip. She followed Amy into her bedroom, white, clean and organized just like its occupant.

"How about a little enthusiasm?" Amy said over her shoulder as she opened her white wood closet.

"How about we keep it real?" Adrian teased, "Your closet shouts hi, _I'm a dull, uptight bitch_" she expanded as she skimmed her fingers over the white cashmere coats and tan dresses, "Do you even own any color?"

"That would be my summer wardrobe. I prefer to store those up until spring because well they-"

"And that's your problem. You think too much" Adrian rolled her eyes, "Too much thinking is not sexy"

"You were never one for women's liberation were you?"

"Sweetie, I own feminism but being sexy is a feeling, an allure you project and its all about the senses" she ran a hand through her dark hair, "To attract a man, you gotta entice his senses. Sight, taste, smell, sound and touch"

"Right" Amy mocked, taking a tidy sip from her glass and letting the wine sit on her tongue before she swallowed.

"So, since we've solved the touch issue with your razor blade, lets move on to sight. You got anything red and tight in your closet?"

"Adrian I'm going to a Knicks game…and maybe dinner later"

"So what?"

"I was thinking a good pair of jeans, sneakers and my Ralph Lauren sweater"

"This is not child's play, Amy. If you want this man to fall at your feet then you need to listen to me" she insisted as she walked back toward the couch to ruffle through her bag.

"What are doing?"

"Luckily, I came prepared" she plucked out a slinky red dress and held it against her chest but Amy's eyes widened when she saw that it barely made it past Adrian's knees.

"You do realize that I'm at least an inch or two taller than you and I'll be sitting front row with a dozen cameras in front of me. I don't think I'm ready for a Britney Spears moment"

"Amy, my word is law. Get your ass in this tiny thing while I refill our glasses"

"So what's his story anyway?" Adrian yelled over her shoulder, picking out fresh wine glasses from Amy's cupboard.

"Who?" she called from the bedroom.

"Ricky Underwood!"

"You've never met him?"

"When would I have met him?"

"During your little affair with Jack Pappas"

"I don't believe I did, I'm sure he's someone I'd remember meeting. I googled his picture online after your little request and he's as yummy as fuck"

"I thought you said Ben was yummy"

"A girl is allowed to look, it's a free world"

"Are you serious about Ben?" Amy's voice softened as she framed the doorway, hands pressing down the front of the short silk dress. She felt completely exposed, as though mere breath could blow the whisper of a dress from her body.

"Hi I'm Adrian, have we met" she smiled taking another sip of wine and looking at Amy over the rim of her glass "I've never been serious about any guy and I'm not about to start now"

"Good to know some things don't change"

"Enough about my sex life, will you look at you in that naked dress!"

"You're killing it mama!"

"You think?" Amy knotted her brows, trying to catch her reflection on the hallway mirror.

"You're gonna have this man spilling Jack Pappas's secrets faster than you can say democracy"


	8. Chapter 8

**A POLITICAL CHARADE**

**xXx**

It hadn't dawned on him until he was pacing outside Seven Bistro in the freezing cold; it was Valentine's Day and he had a date with Amy Juergens. Firstly, Ricky did not believe in dinner dates and secondly he was strongly opposed to any Valentine's Day celebrations past a casual, cheap bottle of champagne consumed at one a.m. after a round of hot sex. Now, here he was waiting for a girl outside an actual restaurant and she was running late. Cupping his gloved hands over his mouth, he blew hot breath into them and rubbed them together. It was freezing, he was tired after a long day of fruitless writing and the irritation was evident when he rolled his shoulders.

What if she was standing him up? He shuddered at the possibility, the horror of her actually standing him up. Ricky told himself that he wouldn't care, he'd head to the nearest sports bar and have a beer or two before the game and all would be right with his world again.

He dipped his head to avoid a mass of red balloons carried by a strolling couple and checked his watch again. He didn't want to call her, the last text she had replied to was thirty minutes ago and calling her again would seem desperate. It's a good thing he changed their date from Brooklyn to Madison Square so that they could be closer to Madison Square gardens for the game. He still couldn't believe that she was a Knick's fan. What were the odds of her having courtside tickets to the Knick's game, the same night he had courtside tickets. Ricky was impressed and the realization hit him about three hours ago when he'd taken an entire hour debating if he should wear his Woodstock tee-shirt or his red checkered shirt. He had finally settled on a grey V-neck sweater, thick grey scarf and grey oversized coat. Raking a hand through his disheveled hair, he glanced behind him at the lit restaurant with diners huddled together and scoffed. Deciding to give up on her, he shoved both hands into his pockets and stepped deeper into the sidewalk.

"Ricky!"

When he heard her voice, he pivoted around and what he saw set his pulse scrambling. She was all leg and hair in the midst of a congested sidewalk. He didn't care that the red of her dress screamed Valentines because the cut of it made him howl into the night. When his eyes coasted down her body, Amy crossed her arms across her chest to close her white cashmere coat and smiled.

"I'm sorry I'm late" she said after taking a deep breath.

"Right now, I'd forgive you for anything" he heard the break in his voice and cleared his throat. When an icy breeze ruffled her hair, it took all his restraint not to reach out and tuck a lock behind her ear.

"Well are you just gonna stare at me the whole night or are you gonna feed a girl?"

"Shall we?" he smiled, ushering her inside Seven Bistro with his hand firmly on her lower back.

xXx

He felt awkward sitting across from her as they busied themselves by thumbing through the fancy menus. Tossing his menu aside, he picked up his bottle of German beer and let his eyes sweep over her again. She looked fantastic with her sparkling russet eyes and flushed pink cheeks. Ricky cleared his throat again before taking a pull from his beer.

"You liked the bouquet of pencils?" he asked, his eyes lingering on the throbbing vein on her neck. She had been breathing hard and fast since they sat down at their table. He assumed that it was her nerves.

"I loved it. Thank you" she glanced up and smiled politely at him.

"When was the last time you went on a date?" he asked, a smile stretching his lips.

"Counting Manhattan's overpriced coffee dates?" she grinned before taking a sip from her red wine," Three weeks ago"

"How did it go?"

"He thought I wasn't spiritually evolved enough for him" she shrugged, "How about you?"

"My last date?"

"Yes"

"A year ago. I met her at some singles volunteering thing in Brooklyn."

"Singles volunteering?"

"It's a website that sets up volunteering events for singles like helping out at soup kitchens or handing out blankets to the homeless in the subway…"

"How noble of you"

"Ha! Anyway, we met and I decided that she was special enough to actually engage over a bottle of wine and a meal"

"Oh yes because you're too spiritually evolved to date. You only do hook-ups"

"Precisely" he gave her a lopsided grin.

"So, what happened?" her eyes bore into his as she looked at him over the rim of her wine glass.

"She left New York."

"Sacrilegious! Unfathomable! " Amy screamed and slammed the table with her palms, "who leaves New York?"

"Exactly and where do they go?" he played along making exaggerated movements with his hands before picking up his beer again.

"There is no world outside New York" Amy chuckled shaking her head.

"New York_ is_ the world" he affirmed, raising his drink with a wink. They both laughed before easing down into easy chuckles.

"She moved so she could work as a volunteer in Afghanistan" Ricky said softly breaking their comfortable silence.

"She sounds like she was a great woman"

"She was" he replied, gazing back at her. The waiter's voice managed to jolt them back into the room and they tore their gaze away from each other. He ordered a grilled steak with red onions and a salad and she ordered a smoked salmon with a baby spinach salad.

"And you haven't really dated since?"

"No, "Ricky shook his head. The sloppy breakfasts in bed with Grace didn't count as dating, in fact he couldn't even remember sitting across Grace at a restaurant, let alone a kitchen table in her apartment. They were never that serious because she was always waiting for something and he was always running away from something.

"There are economics to dating" he said, "we all have perceived worth about potential dates"

"And what's my perceived worth?" she asked, leaning back into her chair.

"My time"

"Excuse me?"

"The cost of something is what you give to get it" he offered with a shrug of his shoulder, "and since my time is valuable to me, I would perceive you to be quite valuable"

"Lucky me" Amy snorted, rolling her eyes, "Aren't you gonna ask me how I perceive you, how I rate you?"

They paused to allow the waiter to place their food in front of them, fresh drinks included. After the server left, Ricky leaned across the table and flashed a big smile, "No need. I know your type. You're an elitist Harvard snob who puts value on a college degree and pedigree. I know your ideal man and the problem with your ideal man is that he's a high demand product. You see you will always be shopping around a seller's market as long as you shop for that type of guy"

"You suggesting I lower my standards?" she raised her eyebrow, stabbing a portion of fish with her fork.

"I'm suggesting you re-examine your deal breakers"

"I agreed to go out on a date with you, didn't I?"

"Touché" Ricky chuckled, forking a few leaves into his mouth.

"I guess this would mean that I'm slumming it on a buyer's market then?" Amy smiled sheepishly, toying with her food before taking in a forkful.

xXx

Later, they sat courtside watching the game with her coat draped over her shoulders. She was surprised by the fact that she was enjoying herself. Being with Ricky didn't feel forced or animated like the rest of the dates she had been on with typical Manhattan men. It felt so good that she had to remind herself several times that it was not a real date, that she was playing him and much as he was using her. Another thing that surprised her was the fact that Ricky had not once asked about Leo Boykewich or politics.

She wasn't sure if he planned to lay on the charm after several drinks at his apartment but she wasn't planning to take it that far, at least not tonight. After the game she planned to take a cab and head straight home. After the Knicks won 59-42, Ricky suggested drinks in East Village which was close to his apartment. He was as transparent as Bill Clinton's former administration.

"I stay just around the corner" she said, arms crossed over her chest as they weaved through throngs of people leaving Madison square gardens for celebratory drinks.

"Come on; don't call it a night yet. It's Friday" he coaxed, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. That brief touch of his thumb against her skin sent her mind reeling as her skin felt like it had been set alight. She took a sharp breath to compose herself, "How about we troll my neighborhood tonight then? She breathed, "The Upper East Side"

"East Village has the best bars and I feel like an Irish pub tonight" Ricky pouted, "Do you really feel like being in some stuffy piano bar after a game like that?"

"And what do you have in mind exactly, a few shooters and then we head back to your place?"

"If you insist" he teased her, his smile sending shivers down her spine. Amy wasn't sure what was happening to her but she knew that she had to get away from him before she did something she would regret, namely kissing him.

"Look, I'm kinda tired. It's been a long night" she protested, raking a hand through her thick hair.

"So, close but no cigar?"

"Yup" she nodded, lifting her arm to hail down a cab.

"You're worse than Nixon"

"Don't you have some papers to grade?" she laughed as a taxi pulled up in front of them. He opened the door for her and watched her as she slid into the back seat.

"Good night, Amy"

"Good night, Mr. Underwood" she smiled as Ricky closed the door. When the car started moving, she vowed not to look back. She didn't want to see if he was still standing there watching as her cab drive off and she definitely didn't want to check if he had walked off the minute she got inside the car.

Curiosity got the better of her and she turned around to look if he was still there.

He wasn't.

With a heavy sigh, she rested her head against the seat and scanned the city as the car drove down 42nd street, past the red pulsating heart in Times Square to the lovers strolling hand in hand to mount the carriages around Central Park. Closing her eyes, she smiled to herself. The non-date had not been too bad; in fact she'd had a fantastic time with Ricky Underwood. The fact that he was still the enemy didn't escape her though but right now she wanted to collapse into a bubble bath with a glass of wine and strategize her next move.


	9. Chapter 9

**GREASING THE WHEELS**

xXx

Ricky leaned his weight against the door and pushed it open. He noticed that Grace still had not fixed it since the last time he'd spent the night at her place. He could still smell melted butter on popcorn as he padded around her apartment, caught a whiff of dog shampoo and the peppery smell of pepperoni and salami pizza. He found an empty container of mint and choc chip ice-cream lying next to a bottle of red wine and knew that she had been watching a movie the night before she left. He wondered if she had been with someone but quickly shook the thought out of his head because he figured that it was none of his business. Grace had her life and he had his.

"Kelly!" he called as he ventured toward Grace's bedroom with its dark hardwood floors and hanging chandelier. His eyes coasted past the gray goat fur cushions on the rumpled bed to the pearl encrusted side lamps where a silver flash made them pause for what seemed like hours. He sucked in a breath and slowly walked toward the object that caught his attention. He held up the white gold cufflinks and studied them in the sunlight; the engraving was clear at that angle. Mouthing out the letters _JP_, he couldn't help but smile at the irony. He was still somewhat uncomfortable with the concept of asking out another woman from the office and Grace was sleeping with Jack Pappas. Ricky had never been in this position before, a lackey for an ex fling while she was busy enjoying a romantic weekend with her current boyfriend. Clearly he would be getting nothing out of this deal; he was just a runner for Grace. Fighting the urge to turn tail and run the hell out of there, he bit his tongue and swiped a hand through his messy hair. Suddenly it felt like he was on the outside looking in. His friends were dating, they planned romantic weekends away together and they were happy. With a shoulder shrug, he scoffed as his eyes idled on a pair of wine glasses on the nightstand. Jack was keeping him out of the loop and the two of them were making him feel like a third wheel. He didn't know why but this sudden rush of emotion brought a lump to his throat, he cleared it and made his away back to the kitchen to find Grace's Dalmatian.

Somehow nearly tripping on Kelly's red chew-toy made him think about Amy Juergens in her slinky red dress. Ricky shook his head as a smile tugged the corners of his lips. The previous night with Amy was still fresh in his mind but he still hadn't called her. His usual mantra after a hook-up would be to text her again when the need arose but Amy was not a hook up. This was business, Intel and he needed to figure out how to play his cards in order to grease her wheels. He wasn't sure what he was hoping to find; a conspiracy involving terrorist attacks, political assassinations or your run of the mill affair but he hoped it would be worthwhile. He figured the courteous thing to do would be to call her on Sunday for an early movie at some random theatre but a part of him wanted to see her much sooner. He tried to convince himself that he needed to see her sooner so that he could sift out information about Boykewich but he knew better than that. He had enjoyed her company. Amy was funny, smart and easy on the eyes. He liked her hair, the thick messy look of it and the soft strands as he had tucked it behind her ear. It had even smelled like snow sprinkled strawberries.

He quickly made a mental note to call her in the afternoon so that he could conveniently suggest cocktails around Hell's Kitchen.

Pursing his lips and slapping the front of his thighs, he whistled for Kelly. The dog rushed toward him with a yelping bark and he caught her, her wet snout nudging his nose. Ricky scratched her belly, Kelly's tongue lapping his scrunched up face before he caught her leash. Who was he kidding, Kelly had never liked him and he had never liked her but here they were forced into an impossible situation together.

xXx

Madison once told her that she texted men after the first date because according to her and Cosmopolitan Magazine it was the new thing to do. Amy still refused to give into that idea. She still couldn't believe that Ricky Underwood was running opposition research on her. She knew for a fact that Boykewich had his own team to conduct research, Madison being one of them. They investigated everything from criminal records to medical and financial records of opposition parties. Leo's research however was conducted closer to the election rather than the period of the intent to run as he had a better indication of the bigger fish at that time.

Her feet slapped the rugged tar road as she sped up under the bridge. Panting and gasping, she wiped her hand across her forehead while keeping at a brisk pace. She used to love jogging around Central Park but since the assault and rape of a jogger in the park, she always felt uneasy. Her mother insisted she joined a gym and her sister suggest a taser but here she was, jogging past the skater's circle with Coldplay on full blast on her iPods.

When she arrived back at her apartment, panting and sweaty, Adrian was waiting on the steps for her with a bottle of champagne at hand.

"Good morning, "Amy greeted, brows furrowed as she wiped a sleeve across her wet brow.

"Gray propaganda" Adrian announced, leaping to her feet with her green coat flapping in the icy breeze.

"What?" she shook her head, scrambling past her friend and the doorman. It was too early to deal with Adrian, politics and alcohol. They took the elevator up to Amy's apartment as she untied her ponytail and shook out her hair until it tumbled down to her shoulders, damp strands stuck to her forehead.

"I'm willing to assist with an article or two to release damaging information about Jack to the media…from an anonymous source, of course" Adrian wet her bottom lip, eyes twinkling with mischief.

"You're willing to put your career at stake for some Democrat asshole?"

"I'm willing to put my job at stake for this exciting game"

"It's not a game, Adrian"

"Will you loosen up, the whole thing is exciting. You have a young, first time governor with barely any experience trying to have his hands on that throne and seemingly, he will do whatever it takes to get there"

"You make it sound like Jack Pappas is playing dirty"

"Isn't he?"

"Surely Jack has a team for his opposition research, he doesn't need some lowly speechwriter to do the investigating for him"

"Are you saying that Ricky is working on his own accord?"

"I'm saying Ricky is dirty, conniving and manipulative" she huffed as the elevator doors pinged open.

"I thought sex with Ricky would've yanked that stick out of your arse by now," Adrian laughed, "but clearly he didn't do-"

"I didn't sleep with him" Amy rolled her eyes as she unlocked her apartment door.

"Why the hell not?"

"I barely know him and-"

"You haven't done the deed in so long I'm sure you've forgotten which parts go where" Adrian teased with a husky chuckle as they entered Amy's apartment.

"Ricky Underwood is the enemy, remember?"

"A hot, sexy enemy" Adrian smiled setting the champagne on the table so she could search Amy's cupboards for a pair of champagne flutes.

"Okay then, "Amy cried plopping down on the couch as she peeled off her oversized Harvard sweatshirt, "three words; three date rule"

"What no sexy times before three dates?" Adrian laughed, "This is not high school"

"That's my thing and I'm sticking to it"

"Earth to Amy, your jay-jay is not some freaking unicorn"

"I'm looking for love not hook-ups"

"Spoiler alert, there are no happily ever after's in Manhattan" Adrian said handing her a full glass.

"Now, back to business," she flipped her hair, throwing herself on a couch opposite Amy, "how was the date?"

"Not bad as far as non dates go"

"Are you blushing Miss Juergens?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Amy snorted, head tilted to the side. The conversation was beginning to trouble her and the knots in her stomach seemed to intensify every time Adrian mentioned Ricky's name.

"Did you tell me him anything about Leo?"

"He didn't ask"

"Then what the hell were you two talking about, your entrees?" Adrian's eyes widened as she swallowed a gulp of champagne.

"We just spoke about general things, everyday topics"

"You mean _date_ topics," Adrian shook her head, settling back on the sofa," you know for a non date this is beginning to sound very much like an actual date"

"No Comment"

"When are you seeing him again?"

"Tonight"

"Tonight, has he called already?"

"No but I will be calling him"

"What makes you think that this guy doesn't have Saturday night plans?" she laughed, opening the fridge door so that she could poke around for a fruit salad.

"I'll make him an offer he can't refuse" Amy said simply, a new spark in her eyes.


	10. Chapter 10

**-oOo-**

**Compromising Positions**

**-oOo-**

When Ricky finally made it back to his apartment it was midday and his throat burned from the cold. Slumped against the front door, he tossed his house keys on a side table littered with Russian literature. He liked to keep the books right at the entrance so that they could be the first thing women came in contact with when they came to his place. A few had been relatively impressed but the majority had been too drunk or ignorant to actually even appreciate the concept of Crime and Punishment. He didn't know why he needed to gloat about his book collection, why he had to prove his intellect to women he probably wouldn't even see after a reckless Friday night. It probably had something to do with his childhood and being carted around from foster care to foster care.

He slogged toward the kitchen, swung open the refrigerator door and glared at the deplorable contents inside. Taking out a white Styrofoam takeaway container, he lifted the lid and peeled open the foil container. He lifted it to his nose and took a quick sniff, it smelled okay he reckoned before he started rifling through his drawers for a fork.

Tossing his backpack on the couch, he plunked down next to it. He was tired and Grace's dog had given him a thorough workout. After leaving her with Grace's neighbor she still seemed like she had been raring to go for another round. He wondered why New York women couldn't be like that then quickly remembered the stint when he had donned latex gloves to retrieve the dog's poop. That had been one of his less graceful moments. His nostrils filled with the strong scent of goat curry as he slipped a chunk in his mouth. He must've stumbled onto slivers of green chile because his mouth started to burn. He couldn't crack open his beer fast enough to quell the tongue-searing heat. He was still enjoying the taste of cold beer washing down his burning throat when his mobile phone whirred, vibrating on the table. Ricky set the can down and picked up the cellphone. Smacking his lips, he savored the moment before he answered.

"Hey, "he smiled, already picturing her with tousled hair in that infamous red dress of hers.

"Hey" she greeted and Ricky leaned back into the couch, legs propped on the table.

"You feel like changing the world tonight?" she breathed into the receiver and his neck tingled.

"Are we talking a revolution of epic scales?"

"Massive…colossal, we're talking a revolution that would make Cuba green with envy"

"I'm listening" he sniffed and took another pull of beer. He liked her quick wit and the tenacity in her voice when she was trying to sell him on an idea. Amy Juergens was inherently sexy and he couldn't get enough of her.

"We're serving soup to the homeless down in Queens. I thought you'd like to join me"

"Soup?" he raised an eyebrow, "See, why is it never lamb-shank or even lobster with a glass of wine?"

"Why is it always soup?" he asked, nudging the take-way back with his foot. He could hear her groan on the other end, raring for a heated debate and his smile widened.

"Even bums have standards you know" he chuckled and lifting his beer to take another gulp.

"Is that a no?" she inquired.

"As noble as that sounds, I was thinking more along the lines of shooting pool in West Village"

"I'm flabbergasted. What happened to you being a humanitarian?"

"Whatever gave you that idea?"

"I don't know, I guess you being a democrat sort of implied it"

"Can I disagree with you on our choice of date without fear of retaliation?"

"Who said anything about a date?" she purred, "This is just two people getting together with the common goal of feeding the hungry"

Ricky laughed, wiping a hand down his flushed face, "I feel like I'm saying no to mother Teresa"

"Good"

"Would it help if I pictured mother Teresa half naked with a stripper pole between her legs?" he chuckled, biting his bottom lip, "It might make it easier to say no"

He heard her stifle a chuckle before she announced, "Leo Boykewich will be there"

-oOo-

The place was swarming with reporters and Ricky scanned the room, his eyes hovering on clumps of reporters trying to get a word in with the governor. He scoffed, his eyes coasting to the long queues of ragged looking drifters lining up for soup.

"I'm glad you came" Amy said, a smile creasing the corners of her eyes and he smile back. Helping her with her apron, he tied the strings into a bow and leaned in an inch closer so that he could smell her hair. A short while later the action started and they were ladling soup for the same drifters he'd often stepped over on the subway, oblivious to their jangling paper cups and putrid stench. His eyes kept darting to Amy, he liked watching her with her hair tied back into a ponytail, her cheeks aglow and a genuine smile on her face everytime she scooped soup for a new bowl.

"You wanna meet the governor?" she asked casually, her hand on his forearm and Ricky followed him to the clumps of people standing around the burly man.

"Good to meet you, son" Leo Boykewich sandwiched Ricky's hand between his own hands. Ricky knew the trick; it was an attempt for the other party to seem affable and approachable.

"Good to meet you, sir" Ricky nodded and Leo grinned before moving on to greet anther volunteer. Squinting at the flashing cameras, Ricky heaved a sigh and a scoff before heading back to the hot, sweltering dishes and his apron.

-oOo-

Flurries of snow coated her eyelashes and stung her nose. They were beginning to fall more thickly, coating Ricky's hair as he leveled his gaze at her. His eyes slid to her lips and he thought about leaning closer and kissing her. His hunger for her was beginning to gnaw at him but his mission nagged him.

"Did you have a good time?" she asked, swirls of white fog dancing in front of her mouth as her lips parted.

"Oh yeah, I particularly enjoyed Leo's speech about abolishing laws against feeding the hungry" he smirked and propped the collar of his coat back up to shield himself from the cold..

"Can you believe that's even a thing?" her brows furrowed and she stamped her boots on the frozen ground to get some heat back in her legs.

"Uhmm and that phrase, love thy neighbor was a nice touch. "Ricky stuck his hand out to catch the falling snow. "I assume that you wrote you the speech."

"And your assumption would be correct." She nodded with a smile and wiped a spot of snow off her nose with a gloved hand.

"Good speech" he admitted, taking a deep breath.

"It wasn't about the speech, naturally. It's about doing something for people who are less fortunate" a shrug rolled off her shoulder as she edged closer to him in a bid to avoid a passerby.

"How about we swing over to Queens and you can show me how admirable you are down there?" Ricky breathed, letting his eyes roam over her body in a form-fitting white coat. When they flitted back to her face, he was caught off guard by the gaze she fixed on him.

"Queens?" her right eye-brow lifted, a smile lingering on her delicate lips.

"There's a nice little Indian restaurant that's tucked away next to a dingy little taxi-garage" he explained, his hand wiping bits of snow from her hair.

"You sweep me off my feet every-single-time" Amy rolled her eyes, shaking her head.

"Hey, Amy we're heading to Lauren's place for a few drinks. You guys should join us" Madison burst out of the building, rubbing her gloved hands together. Amy and Ricky shared a look, followed Madison's eyes to the group hailing down a cab and then nodded their consent back at Madison.

-oOo-

"…But who should feed the hungry, the church or the government?" Lauren asked as she plunked two bottles of wine on the table in front of the group.

"The way I see it it's our responsibility as a community" Amy offered before she drained down the rest of her glass. She reached out and plucked out one of the bottles from the table then searched for the wine-opener. Ricky smiled to himself and shook his head; he'd forgotten how much she liked her wine.

"Look, feeding the homeless is basically enabling them. You don't give a man fish; you teach him how to fish" Marc Molina, Madison's date drummed his fingers on the table as he waited for Amy to refill his glass. He picked at his long forgotten lasagna then discarded the plate by pushing it toward Madison who glared at him before picking a few morsels of beef from the cold dish.

"You are criminalizing a benevolent act, mate" Sam, Lauren's husband drawled in a heavy Australian accent. He sat back in his chair, raking a hand through his tousled dirty-blonde hair.

"Maybe we should cut the feeding schemes in schools too while we're at it. Keep all those disadvantaged kids in the streets and out of the classrooms because guess what, a hot meal and the right to education is enabling them" Sam continued, blood rushing to his cheeks as he glared at Marc Molina.

"You cannot compare a bunch of bums to school kids. Those bums had a choice, they still do" he grumbled, looking at Sam over the rim of his glass.

"Seems no good deed goes unpunished in America, does it?" Sam's blue-grey eyes sparked with challenge.

"It's a world issue, Sam" Lauren said patiently, settling down next to him and pouring herself a cup of tea. The debate went on a while longer with Ricky's eyes sparking from person to person while the heated discussion made his skin tingle. Someone asked him what he did yet again and he had to remind them that he was a teacher at PS23.

-oOo-

"Hey, are you okay?" Ricky asked Sam as they stood outside on the balcony looking over the dazzling city.

"I'm fine, mate" he shrugged and pulled on his cigarette. "It's just that sometimes I find it hard to marry my marriage to Lauren and the politics she's involved in"

"Don't get me wrong, I think what Leo did today was admirable"

"Even though it was in front of a legion of reporters and cameras" Ricky snorted and took a sip from his wine glass.

"Well that's politics for you, "Sam coughed and took a swig of wine, and then said "I think what really pisses me off is the hypocrisy. Did you know that Leo Boykewich is anti-gay marriage?"

"Yeah, I am aware of the governor's stance on gay marriage"

"Well, he's all for a traditional definition of marriage when he's busy sleeping with a_ very_ male member of his staff"

"There you are honey," Lauren strolled toward them and draped her arm around Sam's waist, squeezing him tighter," we're having some aperitifs."

"Are you game, mate?" he paused at the door, his arm around Lauren's shoulder as he killed his cigarette with his heel.

"Uhmm, I think I'll have coffee instead" Ricky nodded. His mind was already reeling about what Sam had told him, configuring how and when to use this very pertinent information.

-oOo-

Amy used to be profoundly level-headed before she met Ricky Underwood and since that serendipitous meeting she had become a shadow of the woman she used to be. Her mind played back the events of the evening, Ricky's smile, his fiery eyes and his hunger for a good debate and she smiled. She had been pleasantly surprised when he'd gotten along with her friends so well, surprised that he hadn't offended anyone. Lauren had even called him nice when she ushered them out at the end of the evening.

"Dating in Manhattan is hard enough without dating your arch enemy" she spoke to herself and picked up the remote control to switch on the TV. Sighing, she hugged her legs to her chest and thought about Lauren's happy marriage. Amy hated being single in New York, she hated the couple's dinners she was often invited to, hated the speed dating events that Adrian often dragged her to but what she loathed the most was cooking for herself. Being single was part of the reason she had stopped cooking, TV dinners were her thing now. She ripped open a packet and plunged her hand inside to pull out a powdered ring doughnut with a gooey custard filling. With a heavy sigh, she took a ravenous bite and closed her eyes.

-oOo-


	11. Chapter 11

**-oOo-**

**They Shoot Politicians, Don't They?**

**-oOo-**

"You are aware that whatever you do affects your candidate. It affects Jack" Henry reminded him as he assembled a few files on Ricky's desk. He stopped to pick up his Star bucks, leaving Ricky's peppermint hot chocolate on the cup-holder tray. Ricky swung his legs over his desk and pasted a smile on his face. He liked Henry, he was a nice guy but morality had no place in politics. Henry was what they called a political realist who still believed in the principles of politics. Ricky loved to write about these ideologies but he didn't believe in any of them.

"Leo Boykewich is fair game" he waved Henry off with his hand then reached for his hot chocolate.

"How is this fair game? You're attacking a men's sexuality. That's got be infringing on his basic human right or something." Henry cried, pushing his rimmed glasses up over his nose as if this would make him observe Ricky better.

"I am merely shedding light on a politician's private life. That is fair game." Ricky shrugged, his eyes checking the muddled sky from his tiny window.

"This is about you wanting Washington DC, isn't it?" Henry cocked an eyebrow, surveying Ricky over the rim of his cup. Ricky considered his response for a moment before he replied,

"I don't want DC; I don't want to be a White house staffer and I don't want to work for Obama….ok, maybe just a little bit" he chuckled with a half-shrug.

"Did you even make a New Year's resolution this year? New hopes, new dreams, like maybe to become a better person this year?" Henry frowned, still searching Ricky's face. With a sigh, Ricky adjusted his skinny tie and took a sip from his cup.

"Cant say the thought crossed my mind. I like who I am, Henry. In fact I might just be in love with myself"

"You make it too easy to hate you"

"Politicians are not above reproach" Ricky wiggled his finger at Henry, a big smile pasted on his face.

"I'm not saying we shouldn't criticize him but you should criticize him on his policies and not his -"

"I'm the last cowboy, my friend. It's my duty to make sure law breakers are apprehended." He chuckled and mimicked pulling out a pair of pistols from his waistband then pointed his fingers at Henry.

"You're wading in deep waters my friend" Henry blew into his coffee then picked up a set of files to take with him, "Be careful" he added before exiting the office.

"Yes we can!" Ricky yelled, knocking his head back against his chair. He groaned, tapping his pencil against the side of his desk. He couldn't understand why Henry didn't get that he was wired this way. He wasn't wired to think about what was best for the next person, even if that person was a leggy brunette with challenging brown eyes.

-oOo-

"So, how did I do last night?" Madison cried, bursting into Amy's office. "Do I deserve an Oscar or what?"

"You were spectacular. He didn't suspect a thing" Amy laughed, leaning back into her leather chair.

"And what's our next move?" Madison's face was glowing as she leaned over Amy's desk expectantly.

"There's no _our_ next move, you're not part of this"

"Come on, I need this espionage thing, it's the highlight of my life right now" crossing her arms against her chest, the redhead plonked down on the seat opposite Amy and glared at her.

"This coming from a woman who's dating hot republican, Marc Molina" Amy raised her eyebrows, offering her friend and assistant a bemused smile. Madison narrowed her eyes, pursing her lips and then responded.

"I think he blew me off?" she sighed, rubbing the back of her neck.

"That's unfortunate" Amy clucked her tongue as she took in a deep breath. She hated seeing her friends hurt after taking a giant leap into the dating world.

"I slept with him after Lauren's little swarray and he hasn't called me back" Madison explained, a flush creeping into her cheeks.

"Maybe he's busy" Amy shuffled around a couple of papers before fixing her eyes back on her computer screen. She knew that saying a guy was busy was basically saying that he was too self-absorbed to date anyone and therefore not interested. _How busy could Marc Molina be? It's not like he was the president of the United States. _

"Amy, I'm twenty five and this is Manhattan. He went from texting all day every day, long dinner dates with fiery conversation and then poof, nothing"

"I'm sorry" she offered Madison a sympathetic smile.

"I'm over it"

-oOo-

Three days later, Grace invited Ricky out for a drink in Tribeca. The city was still cold with layers of snow coating the sidewalks. He checked his watch, passed a few bills through the grimy compartment of a cab and stepped onto the glistening sidewalk. It was late afternoon, still early for bustling bar crowds, he thought as his eyes panned the space. Then he spotted Grace waiving at him from a corner booth that no doubt grew cozier as the evening progressed.

"There's my guy" she smiled, saluting him with a glass of whiskey. She was glowing, he thought, sex with Jack was obviously doing her a world of good.

"You want something" Ricky smirked as he removed his navy, single breasted duffle coat. He tossed it over an empty spot and then slid into the leather booth to glare at Grace. Her eyes were fixed to his t-shirt for a moment, scanning the bold print declaring that _Funny guys get laid_. She scoffed at the promise and lifted her glass to her lips.

"All work and no play makes Ricky a very dull boy" she said after taking a hearty sip.

"Have some whiskey" She gestured to the twenty-five year old bottle of Macallan sitting on the table between them.

"No one's ever accused me of being a dull boy" he smiled, raising an eyebrow as he rubbed his hands down the front of his jeans before signaling a waitress.

"I have something to tell you" she leaned over the table, a broad smile spread across her face.

"Let me guess, you took an opinion poll and the consensus is that you should continue sleeping with me and preferably with no strings attached"

"As enticing as that sounds, that's not why I called you here" she began but paused to allow the waitress to take his hand him an empty glass. She watched as Ricky poured himself a hefty shot, the whisky's amber color catching light as he half-filled his glass. He lifted it to his lips, hints of peach and woods spice filling his nostrils.

"I'm seeing someone" she announced, her fingers curled around the stout crystal glass.

"I know we had something special but I hardly think that our little trysts warrant this sort of transparency. I don't think its any of my business if you're dating again"

"Jack thought it was only fair to tell you"

"Jack."

"He wanted you to hear it from the horse's mouth"

"I take it you're the horse" Ricky smirked and Grace rolled her eyes skyward.

"Well, my dad always told me not to look a gift horse in the mouth." He raised his glass and shrugged, "I'm glad to see you're getting back on the horse, Grace"

"Bottom's up!" he winked at the blonde before taking a swig from his glass.

-oOo-

"Cut the crap, you like him" Adrian yelled over the salsa music as they pushed past the crowds, weaving their way toward the bar.

"I do not!" Amy shed her bulky coat to reveal a sequined cowl-back dress. When Adrian raised an approving eyebrow, Amy tossed her tumble of loose curls over her shoulder and grinned. The dress was a new acquisition and one she was very proud of because it was not in her usual style.

"You do too" Adrian cried over her shoulder, her eyes focused to the front of the bar on the mounted flat-screen above the bar.

"Do not" Amy laughed, sliding onto a barstool along the long wooden bar where a few clubbers were already settled.

"Then why are you still stuck on these stale debates with this guy?" Adrian beckoned one of the mixologists, wedging herself between two well-dressed guys.

"Who said they're stale?" Amy's eyes widened as she opened her purse to pay for her drink. They decided to hang around the bar and watch the crowd. Besides it too out the hassle of having to hike back to the bar to get drinks every ten minutes. 

"Shit, guess who's here?" Adrian paused, her martini glass halfway to her mouth. Amy looked around the crowded bar, her eyes darted everywhere before landing on Ricky who was seated across an attractive blonde in some cozy nook. She watched him move his hands animatedly as he explained something. The blonde was laughing, head thrown back and Amy felt something pull in her gut.

"Your little Ricky Underwood is here and he's giving me a lady boner" Adrian nudged her with an elbow and Amy rolled her eyes. She studied the couple's interaction; the blonde seemed free and liberated with a penchant for the sun, sea and surf. She was otherworldly beautiful and the grey asymmetrical sweater she was wearing seemed to cement this fact. It looked like a Helmut Lang but Amy couldn't tell as she tried to peer over the dancing crowd.

"And he's with none other than Grace Bowman, Jack Pappas's campaign manager" Amy cleared her throat and tried not to sound too hurt by this discovery. Lifting her chin, she schooled her fixtures into nonchalance.

"She's pretty" Adrian raised her voice as the DJ started to spin a new song. Amy was about to swivel back in her barstool when Ricky's gaze locked onto her gaze. She clenched her glass at the shocked look on his face. He stalled for a while, took another sip from his glass and said something to Grace before walking over to Amy and Adrian.

"This is not what it looks like" he declared, his eyes fixed onto Amy who didn't bar an eyelash even though her pulse was raging inside her.

"I don't care if you're here on a date?" she insisted, her gaze sweeping over him and then back to the table where Grace had begun to collect her coat and purse.

"A date?" Ricky repeated, disbelief flaring in his eyes, "I'm not here on a date. She's uhmm...she's"

"She's a teacher from your school?" she suggested and could see relief fill his eyes. _He thinks he's getting away with his lie_, Amy thought. In what universe would she be too obtuse to know that Grace Bowman was Jack's campaign manager?

"Yeah, that's it. She's a colleague and a friend" his smile broadened as he slipped on hand inside the front pocket of his jeans.

"Okay then, good, spectacular" Amy nodded vehemently, their eyes locked on to each other as Adrian cleared her throat.

"Oh, where are my manners. This is Adrian" Amy introduced the two and Adrian offered Ricky her hand.

"I'm Adrian" she smiled and gave him a once over.

"Ricky" he said giving her affirm handshake.

"Nice meeting you"

"Likewise, " he smiled then turned back to Amy and asked, "Is your dance card full?"

"Well, I'm no Baby Houseman but I might just give you the best time of your life" she teased, her chin pointing to the bustling dance floor.

"And she quotes Dirty Dancing, where have you been all my life?" Ricky laughed as he placed his hand on the small of her back so that he could usher her to the dancefloor.

"In some corner writing my fantasy speech for Abraham Lincoln" she purred and draped her arms around his neck. The music was sensual and smooth and so were his hands as they skimmed down her swaying hips.

"Well, nobody puts baby in a corner" he chuckled into her hair and Amy tightened her hold on him.

"I should probably warn you, I have very thin walls" he cupped her face with one hand, the other tracing the outline of her bottom lip. Amy sucked in a shuddering breath as heat stirred up inside her.

"I don't have a smutty mouth" she managed to whisper as his face inched closer still. His hand skimmed down her jaw, her neck and her pulse hastened.

"Too bad I was hoping for some banter between the sheets" he murmured, his breath fanning her lips. Slowly, his hand quested over her shoulder and down her shivering back until it settled an inch above her buttocks.

"You do give good banter" her gaze swept up to meet his gaze full on. Ricky smiled and dipped his head to kiss her lips. When she parted her lips something glorious happened, a sensation quite close to floating. At first she wasn't sure what do to with her arms but when she draped them over his shoulders it felt right.

-oOo-

"I know" Amy confessed in the morning, the light hurting her eyes.

"You know what?" He shook his head as he opened the refrigerator to retrieve a carton of juice.

"I know that you're not some PS23 teacher, ok?"

"Uhm…okay. When did you find out?" his eyes were trained to his sock-covered feet.

"That's not important" she replied and Ricky swung his eyes back to her. It was only then that he noticed that she was full dressed with her coat hanging over her arm.

"Not important? If I was being dubious, you were a complete scammer by playing like you didn't know when you actually did know"

"I'd hit you with a comeback but I don't speak your language"

"And what would that be?"

"Ass-hole" she hissed, marching on over to him, "Just admit it. You were trying to penetrate the opposition by using me"

"Interesting choice of words" his voice was smooth but he backed away from her just in a case she had a pinch of crazy this morning.

"You just inserted yourself right in there" she leaned in closer to him, a steely glare in her eyes. Something he was quite unaccustomed to.

"Again, remarkable choice of words" he stammered and Amy's gaze slid back to his lips before she heaved a sigh.

"I'm leaving" she said and drew back to collect her purse from the table, next to the litter of empty beer bottles they had consumed after the club.

"I made you breakfast, see warm buns" he said sheepishly and gestured to the small spread of scrambled eggs and crusty bread on the table in front of them.

"I'm not hungry" Amy mumbled, brushing past him as she headed for the exit. Something twisted in his gut and Ricky caught his breath. She couldn't leave, he couldn't let her.

"Let's throw logic out the window for a second" his voice broke as he addressed her back.

"This thing between us-"he began, his gaze flicking past her shoulders to her tumble of bed-hair. A part of him suddenly wished they had done more than kiss and cuddle last night but it wouldn't have felt right. As ruthless as he was with trying to obtain Leo Boykewich's story, he still had some morals intact.

"There's nothing between us" she insisted, her hand poised over the doorknob.

"Okay then, this nothing between us could be something special"

"What is this, dating for dummies?" she quickly turned to shoot dares at him with her brilliant eyes. Ricky took a hesitant step forward and sucked in a shuddering breath.

"I'm sorry I lied to you, Amy but this here, this is good stuff" he said softly, his eyes searching her flushed face.

"This is the part where I mentally disengage from this conversation" she seethed, locking eyes with him.

"Amy, I like you and you like me. Just stop fighting it" he called but she had already slammed the door behind her.

-oOo-

_**A/N: Hope you guys don't mind that I rushed things along a little bit. The storyline was getting rather stale and slowing down the pace. Besides, it would be great to finally finish this piece! lol**_


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